


Empty Stomach

by Mawkish_Warden



Category: Senjou no Valkyria | Valkyria Chronicles
Genre: Combat, Gen, Humor, One Shot, Prior to Siegval, Squad E is called E/Easy Platoon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28515594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mawkish_Warden/pseuds/Mawkish_Warden
Summary: A day in the life of Deadeye Kai, and her struggle to push through the pangs of hunger.
Kudos: 1





	Empty Stomach

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on fanfiction.net.
> 
> Inspired by Kai's 'Empty Stomach' Potential (When her AP falls below half, her hunger pangs kick in, gradually lowering her HP).

**Empty Stomach**

The sun peeked over the horizon against the white and grey of steadily forming clouds. Its hazy orange light reminded Kai of a ragnite radiator, sans the blue glow. And although the temperature was falling in time with the day’s end, she felt the momentary flare of a ghostly warmth thinking about the heat.

She glanced left to where Millennia was standing. The soft-spoken scout’s eyes were roaming the grasslands outside the base’s walls. Although, considering there wasn’t much more than green acres to look at, Kai wouldn’t blame her if she was just doing so without much cognitive thought. Their eight-hour sentry shift was almost at an end, and the relief would be here to take over soon.

The prospect of no longer being glued to her post filled Kai with a near giddy excitement – not so much because she hated guard duty (as a sniper, patience and vigilance may as well have been prerequisites for her job) – rather, because she could finally visit the mess hall.

The day had started off busy, with Claude, herself, and the platoon’s NCOs having to get up early to conduct a surprise inspection of Easy Platoon’s barracks. Of course, with Raz’s more…lax attitude, she’d had to effectively pull double duty in going through lockers and bunks, while also making sure the sergeant wasn’t colluding with the grunts and their contraband. Afterwards had been the usual PT under Minerva’s draconian glare, and practice at the firing range. Next, she and a few members from the other platoons had headed to the armoury to check over the new supply shipment of over two hundred Brown rifles sent to their company for any defects. When they had finished, it was nearly midday, and she’d had to hurry to take her position on the wall with Millennia.

It was now 1954 hours, and the last thing that Kai had eaten had been half a potato at dawn. She was starving.

But now, it was almost over. When she was off this wall, she could go straight to the kitchens and bite down on some nice, soft, fluffy br–

“First Sergeant?”

Millennia’s call broke Kai out of her impromptu daydreaming. Maybe she shouldn’t speculate about her subordinates being on autopilot when she herself was getting lost in the clouds; clouds that had gotten significantly darker over the past few minutes. There was a storm. She blinked twice, then tilted her head at the blonde.

“Our relief is here.”

She smiled an apology to Millennia for spacing out, and they soon heard hands and feet on ladders. When two fellow Rangers emerged over the top, they approached Kai and Millennia. From the patches on their uniforms, she saw they were a pair of privates: shock troopers from Able Platoon.

“Hey there, Millie!” one of their replacements, a lady with brown hair and a friendly aura exclaimed as she offered a hug to the scout, who gladly received it. Kai guessed the two had known each other before the war. There hadn’t been much time for anyone who wasn’t an officer to interact with people outside their immediate units. “How are you holding up?”

“Oh,” Millennia started, voice betraying a slight tremor, “I’m managing…day by day.”

Not much time had passed since the scout had been notified of her fiancé’s passing. While the ordeal seemed to have strengthened her resolve beyond measure, moments like the one before Kai showed she still needed time to process her grief. At the very least, the sniper was glad to see she would never be alone in said processing.

Noting there were still technically a few minutes before the changeover, and not wanting to barge in on the two’s conversation, Kai looked out once more at the fields surrounding the base. To her left, she was aware of the second shock trooper from Able, a slim man with a pair of dark blue gloves, moving to where Millennia had been standing before being pulled away by her friend.

“Good thing we installed the overhangs,” he muttered, referring to the wooden ceilings that had been hastily erected over the walls after a downpour the previous week had left How Platoon’s sentries soaked and sneezing. Fortunately, Able could hide from tonight’s rain, which was about to commence very soon, if the darkening skies had anything to say about it.

Kai hummed in agreement, then frowned slightly as a growl from her stomach painfully reminded her of her original motivation to get off the wall. The trooper chuckled, although he had the courtesy to hide his smile behind a hand.

“But it seems you have a bit more than rain to worry about–uh, First Sergeant,” he finished quickly, noticing the rank on her own field uniform. Kai raised an eyebrow but didn’t feel the need to make a reprimand.

“I suppose I do,” she acknowledged.

The private, seeing that he wasn’t about to be smoked, relaxed and called out to his partner, who was finishing up her talk with Millennia. “Hey, Macy. It’s time to take up watch.”

The lady gave a thumbs up, before offering Millennia one final hug. She nodded to Kai, giving a quick “First Sergeant,” and switched places. Kai and Millennia were then free to descend to the ground.

As their boots hit the dirt, Kai bade farewell to the scout, and made a beeline for the mess hall (or as much of a beeline one could make in a base with an organised gridded structure). While she didn’t have Azusa’s uncanny sense of smell, she could have sworn there were faintly visible wafts guiding her to the dining area. Bread, meat and cheese all joined forces to project their heavenly aroma and whisper promises of Eden, Nirvana and…Valhalla? No matter. Kai was getting closer to the promised land. All she needed to do was keep putting one foot in front of the other, turn left after the next tent, and–

“Easy Platoon. This is Easy Actual. Calling all members of Easy Platoon to the CCP immediately. I say again, all members of Easy Platoon to the CCP ASAP. Out.”

Kai didn’t quite groan, but she did let a small sound form in the back of her throat, and felt her hand twitch in annoyance towards her radio. CCP referred to the company command post that handled Able through Item Platoons. If Claude, or Easy Actual as he was referred to on official channels within their company, wanted them to assemble at headquarters without precedent, something had gone, or was about to go, either terribly right or terribly wrong. Given what the lieutenant had inadvertently wrenched her away from, Kai was overwhelmingly inclined to believe the latter being the case.

But orders were orders (Kai wondered how many times she would have to tell herself this throughout the course of Operation Northern Cross). So, with great reluctance she threw off the enticing voices of grain and beef and marched ( _not trudged_ ) her way back to purgatory–err, the command post’s tent.

* * *

Droplets of water had begun to fall by the time she’d reached the large tent. The majority of Easy Platoon had already arrived. Claude was speaking with a pair of lieutenants from other units in the company. She caught the tail end of their conversation as she approached the big table, with a map of the surrounding area in the centre of the command post.

“–down. We’ll just have to be quick about it and catch them off guard.”

Claude nodded and shook hands with the other officers.

“Right. We’ll move out as soon as we’re ready. Godspeed Rosen, Filipa.”

“Likewise, Claude.”

“Rangers lead the way.”

And with that, Easy Platoon’s commander was left to address his own men. In the few seconds the farewell had taken, Kai saw the last member of Easy enter the tent. Claude, after doing a quick headcount, noted all were present and accounted for. He waved Kai, Raz, Stanley and Jascha (all of whom made up Easy’s NCOs), over to stand on either side of him before addressing the platoon. Riley had already situated herself a few paces away from the lieutenant.

“Alright. Listen up, Easy!” he called out. The hubbub in the tent quickly died down. “I know a lot of you have just come off the walls. But we won’t be getting rest any time soon.”

Nobody protested, but Kai was well aware of the disgruntled visage that formed or deepened on some faces.

“An Imperial officer in Federation custody has, uh, ‘volunteered’ some information about a forward outpost stationed near the Siegval Line.” Claude pointed on the map to a circled position around twenty kilometres from the line of fortifications. Easy Platoon was well acquainted with such outposts, having been involved in assaulting more than a few of them in their push to Schwarzgrad.

“Earlier today, scouts from Baker and Dog Platoons took a look around the area and were able to verify its position. Looks like a standard small base designed to alert the main Imperial force of Federation attacks headed for the Line.”

“So, what? Are we gonna burn it down?” asked Viola from 1st Squad, her ever-present scowl gaining a dangerous glint at the thought of a sneak attack.

Claude shook his head. “That will be up to Baker and Dog. Our mission concerns another piece of intel from the prisoner.”

Taking out a pencil, he drew a line from the outpost’s position heading north, before sharply turning east into the mass of roads originating from the Siegval Line.

“It appears the Empire constructed a makeshift dirt road through the trees and foliage leading to the outpost, which might explain why it took us until now to know of it. When he was caught trying to escape after he was captured, our men found a letter on the Imperial officer detailing a supply and reinforcement run on the outpost…a run which is scheduled to arrive in about two hours. We’re going to ambush them here,” he finished, scratching a ‘X’ on the newly drawn road.

Claude paused to let the information sink in. Raz stared at the map.

“Two hours…” he mused. “If we hoof it, we’ll make it there no problem. We’ll have to leave soon though. And unless we wanna smash down every single tree in our way, I don’t think the Hafen will be able to make it there.”

“Agreed,” said Claude. “I’ll be joining 2nd Squad, while Miles assists Karen and the engineers. Considering they were labelled as a supply _and_ reinforcement convoy, assume armoured and motorised resistance. Riley, I’ll leave it up to your judgement on how to equip our grenadiers.”

Riley nodded. “Winds are also picking up right now. If they haven’t calmed down by the time we engage, our mortars might have some trouble landing hits. If you have to call in a fire mission, try to put some more distance than usual between you and your targets.”

“Good call,” Claude acknowledged. “The rain won’t be letting up any time soon either. Be ready for mud and thunder.”

The realisation that they would have to plod through, never mind fight in, cold and wet terrain ,was what broke the overall silence of the platoon. It wasn’t much, just a few grumbles and sighs, but it was enough to wake the devil in Raz.

“The hell are you wimps moaning about?” he demanded. “You giving up because of a light sprinkle?”

With the men and women quieting down, Claude nodded his thanks to the sergeant. “Any questions?”

_GROWL_

The uncomfortable lull that followed lasted maybe a few seconds. But to Kai, it may as well have been an eternity, as all eyes went to her. Standing on Claude’s right meant she didn’t have an array of bodies to hide in. She tried to be nonchalant, absentmindedly lowering her cap over her eyes, and most definitely not cursing her stomach to the nine circles of hell. That made it two times her hunger had betrayed her today.

“N-No?” said Claude, desperately trying to remain oblivious to Kai’s predicament. “Okay, we move out in five. Gear up and meet with Baker and Dog Platoons at the northeast entrance.”

Raz sprang into action, acting like a shepherd of war arming his sheep for some payback against the wolves. “Let’s go! Let’s go! Double time to the armoury! You still hung up on that storm? If you can’t handle a romp in the muck, then maybe I should have you mopping rain off the tanks!”

His words may have been a lot more intimidating or inspiring if it hadn’t been for the shit-eating grin on his face.

Kai sighed lightly. While she was by no means a big eater, her enthusiasm for food was nevertheless a humanising, if not slightly mortifying, aspect of her within the platoon. And she knew the amount of verbal ammo she’d just given Raz was going to make the next few days testing. By now, she and Claude were the only ones left in the tent. She gave him a quick nod, and they braced themselves for the rain outside.

Having just come from guard duty meant she already had her weapons and equipment. But it never hurt to double check one’s inventory or take extras. She should also help out the other members of her marksmen fireteams arm up.

Which meant no time to try to sneak in even an apple.

Kai sighed again. This time a bit more heavily.

* * *

There was roughly forty-five minutes left before the convoy would reach their position. Through the scope of her Lenfield Wasp, Kai could see the engineers working to plant anti-vehicle mines across the road. The road itself was narrow, forcing anything on wheels and larger than a motorcycle to go in single file. Driving over the imbedded explosives would effectively halt the convoy by blocking its front. 1st and 2nd Squad (designated Pillar 1 and Pillar 2 on the radio) were in the middle of concealing themselves amongst the trees and shrubbery. They were responsible for hitting whichever vehicles were at the back. With burning wrecks at their fore and rear, the enemy would be boxed into their killzone. Kai’s marksmen fireteams (Phantom 1 and Phantom 2), along with Riley’s mortar fireteams (Longarm 1 and Longarm 2), had set about finding vantage points with reasonable cover that would allow them to support Claude’s main assault.

She grimaced as her stomach let out another sound of protest. Easy Platoon had set off with a steady run (moderate periods of slow running broken up by short periods of walking). To reach their current position, they had travelled for just over an hour. Kai was tough – everyone in the platoon could attest to that – but her current lack of nourishment was seriously starting to weigh down on her. And at the blisteringly fast rate they’d been forced to mobilise, she highly doubted anyone was carrying food for her to swallow her pride to ask for.

At the very least, she was glad that her fireteam, made up of herself, Norid and Curtis, wouldn’t bother her about her discomfort. The North Europan’s obsession with the surrounding nature and the scout’s anti-social tendencies would keep them quiet unless ordered otherwise.

The rain, which had until a few minutes ago been a light drizzle, had finally developed into a weightier downpour. Kai’s and Norid’s headwear prevented most of the water from going in their eyes. She could only guess as to how Curtis wasn’t forced to wipe the deluge out of his face every few seconds.

She shifted her sight up the road, as the engineers finished planting the mines. Visibility had plummeted accordingly with the setting sun. The winds hadn’t settled either, having become strong enough to occasionally shake tree branches and conspire with the rain to generally make their lives more difficult. Kai’s only consolation was that the enemy would be similarly hampered in the upcoming engagement.

Another pang of hunger drew Kai to memories of SERE (Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape) training she and the rest of the Ranger Corps had been required to complete. She recalled a point in the training that had left her searching for food, far away from base. She’d come upon a cluster of beetle larvae, but had passed on account of being desperate, but not _that_ desperate. Today, she was starting to see those same larvae in a much more flattering light.

And now, her ruminations about less than desirable meals were making her even hungrier. Wonderful. Kai checked her watch. At least another half an hour to go. This was going to be a long wait.

* * *

Almost another hour passed before Kai caught the glimpse of headlights through the darkness and rain.

“Norid, Curtis,” she called out. “Lights on the road. Eleven o’clock.”

Her fellow sniper peered through his own scope, while Curtis looked through a pair of binoculars. “I see them. Looks like our convoy’s here.”

Better to be safe than sorry. Kai radioed the other marksmen fireteam. “Phanton 2, this is Phantom 1. Do you read? Over.”

Aladdin acknowledged, his tone suave (at least in his eyes) as ever. “Phantom 2 reads you five-by-five. Over.”

“We have a possible fix on the convoy at your…” Kai looked in the general direction of where Aladdin and his team were positioned. Both fireteams had opted for elevated positions on small hills. Kai’s team was slightly closer to the road around forty metres to one side, while Aladdin’s was sixty metres to the other, “…at your two. Can you verify? Over.”

A short pause later, “Affirmative, Phantom 1. Nice eye. They’re being cautious. Looks like they didn’t want to get bogged down in the mud.” Kai silently agreed. It would explain why they had appeared behind schedule. “Seems we hit jackpot, over.”

“Roger that Phantom 2. Will radio Easy Actual. Out.”

“Solid copy. Out.”

Kai contacted Claude. “Phantom 1 to Easy Actual. Do you copy? Over.”

The lieutenant’s voice came back almost immediately. “This is Easy Actual. Loud and clear. Over.”

“Phantoms 1 and 2 have visual on the convoy, about two point five klicks from our position. They’re moving slow. Over.”

“Copy Phantom 1. Can you confirm their composition? Over.”

“Standby, Easy Actual. Over.”

The three of them watched as more and more vehicles slipped into their view. After waiting a few seconds for any stragglers, Kai made her report.

“Easy Actual, this is Phantom 1. Over.”

“Copy Phantom 1. Send traffic. Over.”

“Hostile convoy contains six trucks, four cars, and a light tank platoon. Two tanks at the front and back, and one tank in the middle of the trucks and cars. Over.”

Kai imagined Claude processing the intel and determining how to engage. After a small pause, he replied. “Solid copy Phantom 1. Five light tanks, six trucks, four cars. Standby. Out.”

“Wilco. Out.”

She then heard Claude address the whole group. “Easy Platoon, this is Easy Actual. Target convoy’s approaching. All units, sound off. Over.”

Raz was the first to report in with 1st Squad, eager as always for the upcoming brawl. “Pillar 1 here. Ready to kick ass! Over!”

“Pillar 2’s eager to get wet and wild. Over.” Stanley’s answer was succeeded by quiet groaning and a distant “but we’re already–“ in the background before his transmission cut off.

As the 1st and 2nd Infantry Squads, Pillar contained all of the platoon’s lancers and shock troopers, half of its engineers (who also served as combat medics) and scouts, and a single sniper each. In all their operations, they were the unstoppable force, immovable object, or whatever main effort the mission required them to be. When present, the Hafen would join them to provide welcomed tank support. Despite Claude’s presence in his unit, Stanley was still 2nd Squad’s leader, thus being the one to acknowledge the lieutenant’s call.

Next were the mortar fireteams, which included the platoon’s grenadiers, remaining engineers, and scouts that hadn’t already been assigned to the marksmen fireteams. As the de facto leader of fire support, Riley was the first of the two teams to reply, “This is Longarm 1. We’re set. Over.”

“Longarm 2 is prepped and ready to fire. Over,” radioed Jascha. With that, it was Kai and Aladdin’s turn to report in.

“Phantom 1,” spoke Kai, “ready. Over.”

“Phantom 2, in position and ready. Over,” said Aladdin.

“Angel 1 ready. Over.” That was Karen, the platoon medic. She, Rags and Miles would be shadowing 1st and 2nd Squads’ advance.

“Easy Actual to Easy Platoon. All units accounted for. Be advised, all vehicles will from now on be distinguished by type and numbers from the front. Tanks 1 through 5. Trucks 1 through 6. Cars 1 through 4. Once Tank 1 hits the mines, I want Pillars 1 and 2 to aim for Tanks 4 and 5 with your Em-techs (the M2EQ rocket launchers the platoon’s lancers had been equipped with).”

“After that, move up, take the rear half of the trucks and cars, and eliminate Tank 3. Longarms 1 and 2, target Tank 2 from the front, then engage as you see fit or as requested by other units. Phantoms 1 and 2, have one sniper per fireteam suppressing the front half of the convoy, while the other sniper and the scout supports the main assault at the rear. All units, try to leave the trucks intact. Command wants their supplies, but it’s not critical. Clear?”

Claude wasn’t asking them to pursue what was distinctly a secondary objective at the cost of their lives. This time at least, they could afford to be a little more conservative. If they needed to blow up the trucks and whatever cargo they were carrying, so be it. A series of affirmatives, including one from Kai herself, followed.

“Alright. Prepare to engage. Fire after the mines detonate, not before. Good luck and good hunting. Easy Actual out.”

With the details finalised, Easy Platoon could only watch as their targets churned their way through the muck. By the time they were fifty metres from the mines, Kai was zeroing in on the driver of the lead truck, which was behind the two lead tanks. Norid and Curtis kept their gazes at the convoy’s rear, the latter designating a target for the former.

Twenty metres to the mines.

Already laid flat on the ground, Kai’s Wasp was mounted between a pair of rocks that created a natural indent for her to take advantage of.

Ten metres.

Adrenaline started flooding her veins in anticipation. Discipline kicked in to keep her heart rate steady and stop the chemical reaction from throwing off her aim.

Five metres.

She breathed in through her nose.

Two metres.

She breathed out through her mouth and braced her ears for the _bangs_ that would mark the detonations.

Zero metres.

…

The mines didn’t explode.

* * *

“The hell happened?”

“The convoy’s still going.”

“Misfire! Misfire!”

Claude was weighing his options. The mines hadn’t gone off. The convoy remained in motion. If they didn’t engage now, the platoon would be out of position. The wind was still going strong and would make the grenadiers’ jobs difficult. Even with the unpredictability of the air currents, he could have trusted Riley’s fireteams to eliminate the single tank that should have been left at the front. However, without the mines, they would need to kill two. They’d still be able to do it – but the question was, how quickly? He’d acknowledged when Kai had reported in that they’d have to risk leaving the lone tank in the middle of the convoy. 1st and 2nd Squads would have to just push through fast enough to give their lancers clear shots. But if the grenadiers couldn’t eliminate the two tanks at the front, they could be in a world of hurt once the element of surprise wore off.

His choices were simple. Commit to the ambush and engage, or play it safe, let the last few hours be all for naught, and let the convoy continue to the outpost…the same outpost that Baker and Dog Platoons were assaulting right now.

In the end, there was only one choice (or at least, only one that he could live with himself making and avoid a court martial at the same time). The irony that it was also the one most likely to get him killed did not escape him.

“Easy Platoon. We engage anyway on my mark,” he barked into the radio. “Longarms 1 and 2, aim for both of the front tanks. Compensate for the wind as best you can. All copy?”

Affirmatives from all the squad and fireteam leaders. By now, the lead tank had moved around thirty metres from the mines. Claude could only be grateful that the mud was slowing the convoy down so much, and that the convoy itself was long enough for their lancers to still be in effective range of the rear vehicles.

“Prepare to engage on my mark,” he repeated. “Three. Two. One. Mark!”

And the world around him erupted.

* * *

M2EQ rockets screamed over the ground and impacted the pair of tanks at the back. One of 1st Squad’s lancers hit the rearmost tank’s radiator. The projectile easily ploughed through the vulnerable component and into the crew compartment. Having delivered its payload, the warhead exploded, the tank’s steel interior amplifying the immense pressurisation that followed. Whichever Imperials that did not immediately die or lose consciousness from the concussive force caught a glimpse of the sun, as fragmentation from the blast hit the shells stored in the turret. The fireball that followed illuminated the surrounding area with a roar ferocious enough to tame a dragon.

While 2nd Squad was unable to hit the critical point on their tank, they made up for it with a combination of weight of fire and sheer dumb luck. Three streaks of burning fuel and primed munitions found their mark. The first lance cleaved through the tank’s right tread, before flying off into the distance. The second skipped off the side plating, creating a _gong_ sound that left the crew stunned and their ears ringing. Milliseconds after, the third lance fell short of hitting the tank but ended up bouncing off the ground to penetrate the chassis at a better angle than the second rocket. Having enough momentum left to punch through the plating, it practically sailed into the crew compartment and buried itself into the driver’s torso. The unfortunate Imperial immediately toppled over in a mess of twitching limbs and silent screams, right into the arms of his bewildered comrades, whom promptly started swearing in between dry heaves. While technically still functional, the tank was now unable to move, and its surviving crew members were too busy experiencing a significant emotional event to be of much use. Thus, Tanks 4 and 5 were rendered inoperable and out of the fight.

Snipers from both Pillar and Phantom fired on their chosen targets. Kai’s Wasp let loose a single round. Slicing through the air like a hot knife through butter, the bullet broke the sound barrier long before it forced a hole into the truck’s windshield, then continued on to slip through the eye slit in the driver’s helm and pierce his skull. The driver’s upper body jerked back from the force of being shot before slumping down on the steering wheel and causing the vehicle to honk its horn, as it accelerated and crunched into the tank in front of it. Kai’s feat was replicated in nearly half a dozen other cars and trucks that swerved, braked or, in one case, tumbled on its side to create the worst traffic jam in living memory for both those conducting and on the receiving end of the ambush.

Mortar rounds from Longarm soared in clumsy arcs, as the wind buffeted the rounds every which way. While all of Easy had to account for a level of interference in their shots, it was Riley and her grenadiers who suffered the most, as their shells were in the air the longest. Of the four mortars that fired, only one was able to strike the front tanks, with the rest having their trajectories altered just enough off course to pound the surrounding mud. The one mortar that did hit, however, landed right on the point where the cannon’s barrel was connected to the turret of Tank 1. With a resounding _crack_ , it severed the cylindrical piece of metal from the tank’s interior loading system and left its primary weapon unusable. Tank 1 damaged, but not destroyed.

All of this happened in the span of three seconds. Then the real fight commenced.

* * *

The sounds of rifles, submachine guns, grenades and lances rang across the area, as Easy Platoon crashed down on the Imperial convoy. Soldiers started spilling out of some of the trucks, desperately trying to get their footing on the soggy surface. Wheels and treads churned, as vehicles tried and failed to escape the line of death and carnage.

Unseen in the confusion that followed their initial strikes, Kai’s and Aladdin’s fireteams continued plucking away at the scrambling forces below.

_Next. Truck 3. Scout with grenade launcher. Sight target. Breathe in. Breathe out. Depress trigger._

_Crack!_

_Hit. Chest. Target unmoving. Continue depressing trigger all the way. Open bolt handle. Pull it back. Push it forward. Close. Two rounds remaining._

_Next. Car 2. Shock trooper charging 2 nd Squad. Sight target. Breathe in. Breathe out. Depress trigger._

_Crack!_

_Hit. Right arm. Target felled, but still mobile. Continue depressing trigger all the way. Open bolt handle. Pull it back. Push it forward. Close. One round remaining._

_Same target. Sight target. Breathe in. Breathe out. Depress trigger._

_Crack!_

_Hit. Head. Target unmoving. Continue depressing trigger all the way. Open bolt handle. Pull it back. Insert clip. Push it forward. Close. Five rounds remaining._

_Next. Truck 2. Lancer attempting to restart vehicle. Sight target. Breathe in. Breathe out. Depress trigger._

_Crack!_

_Hit. Lower torso. Target incapacitated, but alive. Continue depressing trigger all the way. Open bolt handle. Pull it back. Push it forward. Close. Four rounds remaining._

_Same target. Sight–_

As Kai was in the process of finishing the lancer off, another Imperial entered her crosshairs. He was kneeling and hurriedly conversing with his fallen ally. The lancer pointed in her general direction and the Imperial, a scout, looked accordingly. At that moment, lightning struck in the distance and for a moment, everything was just a bit more illuminated. Kai didn’t know if the scout saw the glint of her scope, a suspicious outline of her prone body, or a giant neon sign saying ‘RIGHT HERE, SUCKERS’ above an arrow pointing straight down at her, Norid and Curtis. Whatever he saw, it was enough to make him bolt…right in the direction of the one undamaged tank at the front.

_New target. Between Trucks 1 and 2. Scout running for Tank 2. Sight target. Breathe in. Breathe out. Depress trigger._

_GROWL!_

_Crack!_

_Miss!_

Just as Kai was about to fire, the voice of famine spoke once more. The pangs in her stomach, relegated to the back of her mind once the ambush had been sprung, came back with a roar of vengeance. Her left hand, which had been cradling the forestock of her Wasp, twitched. And with that, her shot went wide.

Panicking was not an option. She had to keep her cool.

_Continue depressing trigger all the way._

But as she went through the motions of chambering the next round, she knew it was too late.

_Open bolt handle. Pull it back._

The scout had clambered up the side of the tank and was banging on one of the hatches. The hatch opened, and Kai saw him gesturing wildly in her fireteam’s direction.

_Push it forward. Close. Two–no, three rounds remaining._

Suddenly, the scout stiffened and toppled off the tank, performing half a flip before landing head-first into the mud underneath. Another sniper had seen and taken him out. It had most likely been either Aladdin or Neige from Phantom 2.

Kai held her breath. Had they shot him fast enough?

The tank’s turret began traversing, and her heart skipped a beat as she practically sensed its crew loading a high explosive round with malicious intent.

“Curtis! Norid! Tank! Displace now!”

Tugging roughly on the scout and sniper, who had been preoccupied with the trucks and cars at the back, Kai rose to her feet. The two men took one look at the elevating barrel, blanched, and started scrambling to their feet.

Kai herself made it all of five steps before the tank fired.

* * *

Neige flinched as she saw the bright streak of an anti-personnel shell leave Tank 2’s barrel and soar onto the small hill Kai’s team had set themselves up on.

_Oh god, oh god, oh, god, oh god! I was too late!_

The world around her slowed down. She watched the cannon round’s trajectory curve ever so slightly from the winds. It looked like nature was finally playing fair. But would it be enough? It had to be. By all that was good on Earth, it had to be!

A cry of despair caught in her throat and came out as a quiet croak when the round impacted. The brief flash of the explosion allowed her to see three bodies lifted off their feet a short distance before tumbling down to level ground.

_No…_

“ _Aladdin_!” she screamed, not caring if the enemy could hear her. To her right, Aladdin and Azusa who had been covering 1st Squad’s advance, wrenched their eyes and weapons to her half of the convoy. One hand clutching her braid and the other shakily pointing at where the other fireteam had been, Neige could barely form a sentence as she began to hyperventilate. “K-Kai…tank…I-I…they…”

Fortunately, she didn’t need to say any more for the corporal to understand. “Azusa. Get some eyes on Phantom 1. See if they’re okay.”

“Check,” the easterner acknowledged and raised her binoculars, her sharp eyes piercing through the dark to search for their comrades. She thumbed her radio. “Phantom 1, this is Phantom 2. What’s your status? Over.”

No response. Azusa tried again, all the while scanning the forestry for signs of Kai’s people.

Aladdin spoke into his own radio, “Longarm, this is Phantom 2. We need Tanks 1 and 2 down by yesterday. What’s the hold up?”

“Copy, Phantom 2,” came Riley’s strained voice. “Standby. These winds are making things damn near impossible here. Over.”

“Understood, Longarm. Over.”

Still receiving transmissions from Riley, the sounds of muttered calculations dotted by the occasional cuss word came out of Aladdin’s radio until finally, “Hang it…fire! Hit, damn you!”

The dauntless whistling of the projectiles launched from Riley’s Elias Mortars at last heralded their success against their intended targets. Tank 1, already neutered from the outbreak of the ambush, started billowing smoke when a round punched through its upper plating and into its engine. Visible fire soon followed as the crew attempted to escape the steel coffin they’d become encased in. Some were successful. Others, not so much. Their screams remained etched in the nightmares of those who were close enough to hear and survived the battle.

Tank 2 suffered three direct hits, all within half a metre radius of one another, at the rear end of the turret. As with Tank 5, this caused a chain reaction, as stored ammunition went up in an unrestricted ball of death. The turret itself was blown off the main hull and spun lazily in the air before crashing down on one of the cars behind it. Suffice to say, no one from the tank was alive to even try to bail out.

But Neige noticed none of this. Her grip on her braid had tightened and her eyes were unfocused. She felt Aladdin take a hold of her upper arms. “Hey Neige. Look at me.”

She was sinking. There was a deep burning inside her chest and stomach. Sounds were becoming muffled and everything looked dimmer. It was oppressively numb, but oh so familiar. She’d failed. Once again, she hadn’t been good enough, and now three of her friends were dead. She was useless. She was useless. She was usel–

“Neige!”

The sharp shout accomplished what the soft instructions could not and brought her back to reality. Once more, Neige sensed the drops of water landing around and on her. There was the bite of the wind against her face, the squelch of the mud she was laying in. Her hand bumped against the hard wood of the stock of her Lenfield Wasp, which her trembling fingers had let go of earlier. She tilted her head to look at Aladdin, whose expression was focused and clear.

“It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be alright,” he said. Neige nodded lightly in response, although she wasn’t sure how much of the action was conscious and how much was reflexive. “Azusa’s looking for them. And she’ll find them, I promise you that. But our platoon still needs our support. So, I need _you_ to stay strong with _me_ , right here, right now. You got it?”

Neige nodded again; this time with much less hesitation. “Yeah. I…” She paused and took a few deep breaths. There was no place for cowardice on the battlefield. If she shut down now, more people from Easy Platoon would suffer. If Phantom 1 was alive, she would fight to make sure they stayed alive. If they were dead…She set her face in what she hoped looked like grim determination. “I got it!”

“Good,” Aladdin smiled. Not one of his usual ‘captivating’ smiles, but one of reassurance, pride, and maybe a touch of ‘aww’. Privately, Neige found his current expression a little dashing, if not also vexing (she was _not ‘cute’_ ), and she felt her heart rate stabilise. “Pick up your weapon, Ranger.”

“Yes, Corporal!” And with that, the young sniper reached for her Wasp, briefly checking it over for mud or grass that may have become stuck in its innards when she’d dropped it. When one of her hands started shaking, she held onto it with the other until it stopped. A small part of her was still frozen in fear and worry. She made sure to kick that part into the back of her mind with all her might. She could panic and cry later. But, as Aladdin had said, right here, right now, she was a soldier, a Ranger. And she would keep firing until the last Imperial either fell or surrendered.

* * *

Kai grimaced as the din of battle wrestled with the dull ringing for control over her hearing. Eyes fluttering back to life, she found herself seated against a tree. Judging from the haphazard way her limbs had been positioned, she found it more likely she’d been carried and set down here by the concussive force of the tank’s round, rather than an ally.

Almost absentmindedly, she felt around the back of her head. No blood. She checked the front. Her fingers were covered in red after touching her cheek. Her neck was sore, and her legs didn’t have much feeling. She could still feel pieces of uneven bark pressing into her back and thighs, meaning at least her spine was still intact. She noticed her Lenfield Wasp planted in the wet ground, stock first, like a flagpole. To her mild annoyance, it was just out of reach.

A groan drew her vision, which was still a little unfocused, to Curtis rolling onto his back a few metres in front of her.

“Curtis,” Kai called out, wincing as her voice cracked. He didn’t respond, most likely still shaking off the blanket that had fallen on his senses. With a grunt of effort, she crawled to her gun, using it as an impromptu cane to help her stand. Her legs felt like jelly and her ears were still filled with useless noise. Half walking, half staggering, she made her way over to the scout, who blinked when she entered his field of view.

“You okay?” Kai asked. Still unsure if he could hear her, she pointed at Curtis and, after digging around her head for some distant class on sign language, gave up and wiggled her hand with the thumb and pinkie out. Curtis blinked again, but gave her a sluggish thumbs up. With her help, the pair were both soon on their feet. Kai could now make out the pitter-patter of rain and the whoosh of the wind once more.

“N-Norid…” Curtis coughed out. Kai nodded, eyes searching for the North Europan. Amidst a series of bushes, she spotted the small cartoony face of a bear. Then she saw the woollen hat it had been sewn on…then the head the hat was covering.

“There,” she pointed, and the two stumbled over. The sniper was lying unconscious and sporting multiple lacerations on his left side, courtesy of shrapnel. Kai dimly remembered that he’d been the slowest of the three to begin their hasty withdrawal. Maybe that had made him a shield for herself and Curtis against the fragmentation from the blast. Regardless, he was bleeding quite a bit. She reached for her Ragnaid canister, only to find it had shattered. Fortunately, Curtis still had his one left intact. Before they could begin applying the healing substance, the radio on Norid’s chest crackled.

“I say again, Phantom 2 to Phantom 1. Do you read? Over.”

Recognising Azusa’s voice from the other marksmen fireteam, Kai wondered why she was only hearing this now (enforced tinnitus from the explosion notwithstanding). A quick check on her and Curtis’ fried communication devices answered that question. Carefully clipping Norid’s radio to her uniform, she began to apply pressure to a particularly nasty tear at his ribs with one hand before answering with the other.

“This is-“ she stopped to clear her throat, “This is Phantom 1. We hear you Phantom 2. Over.”

“Solid copy, Phantom 1,” Azusa sounded more pleased than relieved to hear that she was alive. “What’s your status. Over?”

“Incapacitated,” Kai relayed as Curtis began treating the various injuries in Norid’s skin. Where there was visible shrapnel, he pulled out and covered with Ragnaid. Where there was only punctured skin and blood, he let be in case he accidently sealed something artificial inside the man. They would need Karen to take a proper look and fish out any deep fragments. For now, the sniper’s pulse was steady. They’d just have to keep it that way for the foreseeable future. “We’re all wounded: two minor, one potentially severe but stable for now. Need medical assistance. Over.”

“Roger, Phantom 1. Can you pinpoint your location? Over.”

Kai flicked her head in the direction of the road, which by now was filled with burning vehicles and mangled bodies. The fighting had, for the most part, now concentrated itself at the middle of the convoy and decreased in intensity, which had mercifully let her team to regroup without coming under more fire. “Affirmative. We’re a bit over twenty-five metres from the road, perpendicular to the point in the middle of Trucks 1 and 2. Over.”

“Hmph,” Azusa acknowledged. “Perfect angle to hide behind the vehicles. That must have been why I couldn’t spot you. Are you okay to hold position and call for a medic? Over.”

“Affirmative, Phantom 2. Looks like the fighting’s dying down as well. We’ll manage. Phantom 1 out.”

“Roger. Good to hear you’re still kicking. Phantom 2 out.” With their exchange over, Kai fiddled with the radio to call for Karen.

“This is Phantom 1. We have a man down. I say again, we have a man down. Requesting Angel 1 at–“

* * *

By the time Karen and Rags arrived, escorted by Godwin, Ferrier and Ryan from 2nd Squad, Norid had regained consciousness. Despite the obvious pain he was in, he kept up a cheerful front, talking more than Kai and Curtis combined usually would on a good day. They made an effort to indulge him with conversation, if only to stop him from slipping away back to oblivion. Kai made sure the approaching group gave the appropriate password to her challenge, before waving them over.

“Looks nasty on the surface,” the medic informed her. “Some internal bleeding and bruising too. He’ll be out of action for a few days. But he’ll make it.”

Kai briefly closed her eyes and let out a breath. As calm as she’d been on the radio, the fear of losing someone, especially on her watch, was always present. She felt a stab of guilt, thinking back to when she had missed the scout running for the tank. She would have hit him too, if it hadn’t been for–

_GROWL_

A muscle in Kai’s left cheek twitched.

“Which way’s Easy Actual?” she asked.

“At Tank 3,” Ferrier answered, nodding her armoured head at the middle vehicle of the convoy. “He’s trying to talk down the remaining Imperials who’ve walled themselves off with their vehicles.”

Though she would never admit it, Kai was tired. She was soaking wet, her head hurt, and her arms ached. Her uniform was torn and scorched in multiple places. She was caked head to toe in mud, and bleeding from several minor cuts that she’d waved off as unimportant to Karen. Her back felt like it was a feather’s weight away from folding in on itself and her right ankle throbbed with a dull pain every few seconds.

But most of all, she was fucking hungry.

And she had a long walk back to base to deal with once they finished up here, which might not even be the case until dawn.

She wasn’t at her limit, but she was damn close to being done giving a shit about anything that wasn’t food.

“I need to speak to him,” she said. About what and why she couldn’t have just radioed him, she would figure out on the walk. Thankfully, with four soldiers guarding them, she would be able to leave Norid and Karen, relatively assured of their safety. “Anything else you need from me, Karen?”

Jaded as she was, no amount of rank Kai had would overrule a medic’s authority. If Karen needed her to stay for triage, Kai would sit. But if that turned out to be the case, she might just have to resort to tussling with Rags for the canister on his collar – the glowing blue Ragnaid was starting to look mighty edible. Fortunately for her, Karen shook her head, only half paying attention now that she was treating a patient.

“Alright,” Kai said. “I’ll be back. Don’t die on me now, Norid.”

“Circle of life, ma’am,” Norid responded jovially, even as his eyelids started drooping from the morphine Karen had injected. “Circle…of…buh…”

* * *

_10 Minutes Prior_

Claude grunted as he threw himself behind a truck to avoid a hail of automatic fire. He quickly padded himself down to check for wounds hidden by adrenaline, but found nothing. With a pair of soggy thumps, he was joined by Simon and Ferrier, a pair of 2nd Squad’s shock troopers, who visibly sank a few centimetres when they planted their bodies in the mud. The former was having the time of his life, a borderline savage grin plastered on his face. The latter…he couldn’t really tell, due to her helm. Her body language was tense though, and he could see she was using the next few seconds to brace her body and mind for when she would either poke her head out to let loose her own barrage, or make a dash for the next piece of cover.

All things considered, the ambush could have gone worse. The rear half of the convoy had been subjugated, and the frontmost tanks eliminated. But they still had Tank 3, which had become the cornerstone for the remaining Imperials to rally around, to worry about. They had underestimated just how severely the wind would impact their fire support’s accuracy, and Tanks 1 and 2 had been left running much longer than he would have liked. He couldn’t rely on the mortar fireteams to eliminate the remaining tank, but that didn’t mean they were useless.

“Longarms 1 and 2. This is Easy Actual,” he radioed. “Requesting fire mission. Suppressing fire on Tank 3. Three volleys on my mark. How copy? Over.”

By specifying suppressing fire, he’d indicated that they didn’t need to destroy the light tank, only shake it, and the Imperials surrounding it, to the point where it would halt its fire, even if only for a few moments. Rate of fire would matter more than accuracy from the mortars. The more shock value they could squeeze out of their grenadiers, the better.

“Solid copy, Easy Actual,” came Riley’s voice. “Longarms 1 and 2 moving to suppress Tank 3. Three volleys on your order. Out.”

He then transmitted to both 1st and 2nd Squads. “Pillars 1 and 2. Easy Actual here. Mortar support’s gonna hammer the area around Tank 3. When their fire stops, I want Pillar 1 to follow up on their suppressing fire and support Pillar 2’s push to the front half of the convoy. All lancers are to target Tank 3 when the mortars finish their fire mission.”

“Gotcha, Easy Actual,” said Raz.

“Roger, sir,” acknowledged Stanley. “Be advised, it looks like the enemy’s prioritising our lancers. In these conditions, they might not be able to get a clear shot.”

With the element of surprise, Easy Platoon’s anti-armour specialists had been able to fire without worrying about catching an untimely bullet. And even then, the rain and winds had made their shots difficult. It was quite frankly astonishing that they’d knocked out both Tank 4 and Tank 5 initially. The Imperials knew this too, and had been quite insistent on preventing a repeat. Laurent and Brittany from 2nd Squad and Jimmy from 1st Squad had already taken hits, while the unharmed lancers were under a serious, if not also desperate, amount of scrutiny in the form of a constant stream of bullets. With their upcoming bombardment, they would have a small window of opportunity. But just in case, Claude needed a backup plan.

“Copy that, Pillar 2,” he answered Stanley, “If our Em-techs don’t work, I’m gonna take Ferrier and Simon and rush Tank 3 with grenades. Over.” Beside him, Claude was aware of the two shock troopers clutching their weapons a little tighter, either from anticipation or fear (probably just the former for Simon).

A small pause, then, “Affirmative, Easy Actual. Hope it doesn’t come to that. But if it does, get ‘er done, out.”

“Copy. Out.”

And with that, Claude hailed Riley. “Longarms 1 and 2, this is Easy Actual. Are you set to commence fire mission on Tank 3? Over.”

“Affirmative, Easy Actual. On your go. Over.”

“Fire!”

“Solid copy. Hang it…fire!”

Explosions erupted a couple dozen metres in front of Claude, as the suppressing fire commenced. Unfortunately, none were able to hit the tank, but they were able to scatter the infantry. Although Claude couldn’t hear their cries of panic or pain over the storm and munitions, he noticed a significant reduction of small arms fire. Even the tank’s machine gun and cannon halted what had until now been an almost endlessly inaccurate, but still undesirably deadly, deterrent to their advance. This was their chance.

As soon as the final suppressing volley from the mortars crashed into the convoy, Claude yelled, “Rockets! Now!”

Four rockets from their remaining uninjured lancers left streaks of smoke in their wake as they barrelled towards Tank 3. One hit the turret at an unfavourable angle and ricocheted off. Two missed entirely, with one veering too far left and the other too far up. The final rocket was a hit, dead centre on the tank’s silhouette. Had the armoured vehicle still been oriented to move in the convoy’s original direction, the lancer would have hit its radiator. But the crew had been quick to turn and face 1st and 2nd Squads head on after the skirmish had begun. As such, the rocket had to contend with the tank’s front armour. After its warhead detonated, there was a noticeable dent and scorch marks left in the plating. But the tank had not been destroyed.

“ _The first step on the road to disappointment, indeed,_ ” thought Claude. But he made sure to keep his expression resolute. Their lancers wouldn’t be able to reload fast enough. Any second now, the tank would resume firing. 2nd Squad had to cover as much ground as they could before that happened. He stood up, pointed to the Imperials and, in a rare moment of invigoration infected by nerves and resolve, swore, “Let’s go get those bastards!”

A collective roar arose from the throats of 2nd Squad as they charged the final Imperial line. Their advance was accompanied by a hail of bullets from 1st Squad, who aimed to keep their enemies’ heads down for just a bit longer.

Claude felt his muscles coil and release. Like a bull, he leant forward, snorting out heavy breaths and letting his legs propel him forward. Barely a step behind him, he more sensed than saw Ferrier and Simon on his flanks. With his rifle at the apex of their triangle formation, they tore across just under twenty metres of ground. He noticed, almost absentmindedly, that the Imperials had sluggishly started to return fire. But before they could properly recover, they were beset upon by nearly a dozen furious, screaming Rangers.

Claude couldn’t pay attention to the ensuing close quarters combat. He kept running, shoulder checking an Imperial scout along the way, to the tank. When he reached it, he waved his two shock troopers over and began scaling its side. The tank’s crew had yet to resume firing. Whether they had been shaken by the mortars and lances, or an act of divine intervention had disabled their motor functions, he didn’t very much care. What he did care about was that their silent weapons had allowed him and his soldiers to reach their position unhindered.

“Ferrier! Keep an eye out for anyone aiming at us!” he ordered. “Simon! When I open the hatch, give a quick burst, then drop the grenades!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Ya-haaa! Let’s do this!”

The rain caused his hands to slip, as he tried to wrench open the hatch to the tank’s cupola. He wiped his hands on his uniform (for all the good that did, considering that he and the rest of his platoon bore an uncanny resemblance to wet sponges by now), grasped the edge of the lid, and pulled.

His intrusion was greeted by pistol fire. Fortunately, he and Simon had anticipated the retaliation and kept themselves at an un-targetable angle. Claude nodded to Simon, who gleefully pointed the barrel of his Reising submachine gun into the tank’s interior.

“Hey, Imps! Got a present for ya!”

With that, he let loose, cackling at the sound of ricocheting bullets and muffled screams that followed. Contrary to Claude’s order, he kept squeezing the trigger until his magazine ran dry. After that, he snatched both of his grenades off his belt, pulled the pins, and merrily tossed the explosives through the hole.

Claude slammed the hatch shut, and they signalled Ferrier to jump before leaping off the chassis themselves. A pair of thumps indicated that the grenades had gone off. With no living operators left, the tank’s guns remained silent.

In the scant amount of time their little mount-and-blow-up manoeuvre had taken, the fighting had all but ceased. With the shock and awe from their mortars and 2nd Squad’s brazen assault, the Imperials were finally overwhelmed. Many were dead or wounded, and all who were left had thrown their weapons to the ground and raised their arms in the universal gesture of surrender.

* * *

Well…almost all who were left.

“Claude,” he heard. It was Raz, who had brought up 1st Squad after seeing the success of 2nd Squad’s charge. “We’ve still got a group of holdouts at the front. They’re using the trucks and cars as barricades. We gonna mortar them too?”

“Are they still firing at us?” Claude asked. He couldn’t hear any more gunshots, but he had to make sure. Life in the Army had a habit of eroding one’s hearing.

Raz shook his head. “Nah. But there’s one guy. I think he’s their commander. Asshole’s been hurling insults left and right at whoever comes near the group.”

“Then no,” he said. “I’m going to give them a chance.”

Almost as quickly as it had come, the bloodlust and terror of battle had left him. They had won. He didn’t want more people to die, even if they were the enemy. He was aware of Raz grumbling his discontent at his diplomatic choice, but Claude knew his friend understood his reasoning, despite not fully agreeing with him. He clapped the sergeant on the shoulder as a sign of thanks, then called for him and the rest of 1st Squad to follow, while 2nd Squad worked on restraining the already surrendered Imperials.

As they walked towards the spontaneously made ‘fortress’, his radio received a transmission.

“This is Phantom 1. We have a man down…”

* * *

By the time Kai could see Claude, the reverend in her head had decided to conclude his sermon, and the ringing in her ears had disappeared. As she approached the lieutenant, who had Raz, Zaiga and Rosetta next to him, she found herself eavesdropping on their exchange with the Imperials bunkered down behind their vehicles.

“–men will be treated in accordance with the Geneva Convention and international law,” Claude said.

“You really think I’m gonna buy that shit?” replied one of the Imperials. “From an Army tainted with dark-hairs and women? Don’t even pretend you won’t shoot us the moment we come out!”

“Don’t tempt me, Imp!” Raz yelled, before Claude could stop him.

“Yeah!” As always, Zaiga was quick to support his ‘bro’. “We don’t even have to shoot you. We could blow all your guys sky high with a single radio call!”

“I fucking knew it!” If Kai didn’t know any better, she could have sworn she heard the Imperial’s voice squeak a little. “You’re toying with us! Fucking Federation slags!”

“Raz! Zaiga! Stand down! Captain Macancka–” Claude started. Kai guessed even the zealot of an Imperial had been willing to make introductions before burning every possible bridge that could get him out of this battle alive, “–a large portion of your men have been wounded in the fighting. We’re providing what treatment we can, but unless you give the order for all your remaining soldiers to lay down their arms, we will be unable to get them the medical assistance they need off the battlefield.”

“Oh yeah, and who’s fault is that, Lieutenant? My people are dying right now because of _you_! _You_ , who attacked our convoy! _You_ , who shot my soldiers! _You_ , who now has the gall to offer help when until now, you’ve offered nothing but death!”

Kai was still a few metres from Claude’s group, but she was within speaking distance of the rest of 1st Squad, who had their guns levelled at the holdout Imperial transports. She sidled up next to Fleuret, who was looking down at her submachine gun the same way one would look at a particularly annoying mosquito.

“Has this been going on for long?” Kai asked. The Gaulisian jumped, her fixated distaste of ranged combat being shattered by the sniper’s question. Kai would need to speak with Claude and Raz about that. Fleuret was stalwart and dedicated to her code of honour, but her aversion to and lack of proficiency in firearms in favour of swords was going to cause trouble sooner, rather than later.

“Oh. Oui, First Sergeant,” the shock trooper said. “Lieutenant Wallace has been talking with them for a few minutes, but the Imperials don’t look like they will surrender. At least, not while their ‘speaker’ continues to…ah…speak.”

“Captain,” Kai overheard Claude say. Easy Platoon’s commander was now visibly rubbing the bridge of his nose with one hand, while gripping Raz’s arm with the other to prevent the sergeant from commencing another one of his infamous ‘one-man army’ stunts. “If you continue to refuse to surrender, I will have no choice but to order my soldiers to resume the assault. Try as you wish, you’re now heavily outnumbered and outgunned. I’m asking you to see reason…please,” he finished, as if he was hoping for a bit of table manners to sway the Imperial’s mind. Kai mentally facepalmed. Raz did the same, only physically.

“Tch, you Feds can’t even _beg_ properly!” came the predictable reply. It was amazing just how much first impressions could tell one about a person. “If you think I’m gonna bend my knee to a pathetic excuse of an officer like yourself, you might as well try swimming in the Crystal Sea during winter! You can take our lives. You can take our ammo. You can take our food. But you will _never_ –“

Kai stopped listening to the ramblings of bravado and jingoism. Food…Was the Imperial convoy transporting food?

_GROWL_

…

She hadn’t technically reported in to Claude yet, which meant unless he specifically went on the radio, he didn’t have any more orders to give her…Therefore, she could only follow her previous orders, which were to engage the convoy personnel.

Aware of how flimsy her excuse was, Kai slipped away before Claude or Raz could notice her presence. She had a job to do.

In her wake, she left a confused Fleuret, who turned to the rest of 1st Squad. “Should we inform the Lieutenant about her?”

“I’m not getting paid enough to get soaked while our leaders fight over what they want to do,” Emmy grumbled.

“Maybe if you fixed your attitude, you’d be promoted into a higher paygrade,” snarked Leonhardt.

“Says the guy who got the whole platoon smoked for refusing to salute the RSM.”

“A prince kneels to _no one_!”

“I suppose not…” Fleuret mumbled, as her question got lost in the ensuing squabble.

* * *

Captain Fyodor Macancka was _not_ having a good day. After mouthing off to his battalion CO, he had been reassigned to front line logistics. Day in, day out, he had accompanied convoys sent to bolster forward Imperial bases, which were hoping to eat some of the Federation’s momentum before they hit the Siegval Line. Now, on a drive through miserable weather, his forces had been ambushed and all but annihilated in less than a quarter of an hour.

Humiliated by command, drenched to the bone, and tactically deadlocked into utter defeat, he’d had enough. As much (or as little) as he cared for the lives of his three remaining men, he was letting his frustrations out on the Federation dogs who had dared to attack his convoy. The world hated him, and there was nothing left to do but scream.

Winding himself up for another round of venting, Macancka heard a series of thumps and grunts from behind.

He turned around, just in time to see one man unconscious on the ground, another clutching his groin and throat, and the third in the middle of being shoved into a truck’s window. Having been staring at a car’s headlights for the duration of the ‘negotiations’ with the Federation officer, Macancka’s eyes were poorly adjusted for seeing in the night. That was why, when his final soldier’s head made an audible ‘ _crack_ ’ against the glass, he saw what he could only describe as a shadow. The dark outline of his men’s assailant proceeded to grab its reeling target and slam him into the same truck’s side mirror, before bringing his forehead down to its knee. With three consecutive hits to his skull, the man went still.

The shadow then straightened to face him, and Macancka heard the _shing_ of a knife coming out of its sheath. At that moment lightning struck, and for a scant second, the shadow turned into a demon; muddied, bloody and, above all, predatory. He froze, hand midway to drawing his revolver. His eyes were glued to the glint of the short blade, which meant he never saw the fist about to land a solid punch to his gut.

The impact made him double over, and he had to fight to stop himself from retching. An arm roughly tilted his head up, right into a truck’s door. Stars filled his vision, and it took a few seconds for him to feel the cool, sharp metal at his throat.

A face loomed in front of him. A woman. Whereas a minute ago, he would have openly scoffed at the Federation’s multi-gendered recruitment policy, right now he couldn’t say a word – mostly because his diaphragm was still recovering from the strike – but also partly because the flash of fear from before had morphed into a much more respectable, undulating terror.

As her blue eyes bore into his own brown ones, her lips parted to show feral white teeth bared in anticipation. The good captain felt a trickle of something warm leave his body. It wasn’t blood.

He closed his eyes, bracing for the cut–

“Where’s. Your. Food?”

–and then shot them back open. “W-W-W…What?” he stammered out.

“Your food,” the shadow intoned. “Where. Is it?”

He lifted a shaking hand and pointed a thumb at the truck he was currently pinned against. He didn’t even know if it was the right one, but it got the demon lady to stop holding him at knifepoint, and that was enough.

With visions of Armageddon no longer filling his head, Macancka finally lost his nerve, and he slid down onto his back.

His last thought before passing out was one of gratitude that the godforsaken rain would at least ensure no one would know he’d pissed himself in fear.

* * *

Claude rubbed his temples in frustration.

For the past few minutes, he’d felt like he’d been banging his head against a steel wall. Around him, he could see his platoon (and not just Raz) becoming restless. With the fight over, their blood was no longer boiling. The rain and wind were nothing if not relentless, and the cold had well and truly set in. His men and women were suffering.

A forlorn sigh escaped his lips. It looked like more people were going to die after all. This day would weigh heavily on his conscience.

But as he was about to order Riley to fire on the holdouts, he noticed something. The captain, who’d been throwing verbal abuse nonstop, had gone quiet.

“Captain?” he called out. “Captain Macancka?”

Nothing.

He could order the mortar strike. He _should_ order the mortar strike. But something stopped him. Was it morals? Perhaps weakness on his part? Or maybe just a gut feeling. Something had changed.

He turned to Raz, Zaiga and Rosetta. “You three, with me. We’re going in. Everyone else, continue keeping watch.”

The two shock troopers and one scout nodded, also becoming aware of the comparative silence. Weapons ready, they inched around the vehicles. None of them wanted to be the victim of a last-ditch trap.

When they were a couple of metres from the trucks and cars, Claude paused to wipe rain out of his eyes, then crouched down to look between the wheels and undercarriages.

He could only blink in confusion as four bodies, in various states of consciousness, greeted him. His subordinates similarly reacted with surprise.

“The hell?” said Zaiga. “Did they seriously just drop like that?”

“No,” mused Rosetta. “They were attacked.”

Claude was inclined to agree with the former parishioner. The way some of the more lucid Imperials were clutching at their heads, abdomens and (he suppressed a sympathetic wince) nether regions indicated they had missed out on a spectacular demonstration of hand-to-hand combat.

The question was, who had done this to them? He hadn’t ordered any of his platoon to subdue the holdouts. Could it be another Ranger unit that had been sent to reinforce them? No, he would have been notified on the radio. Perhaps it had been a group of anti-Imperial rebels or insurgents, who had capitalised on the fighting to get in a few good shots. Well, he knew at least one way to determine if they were friendly.

“Flash!” he yelled, giving out the universal challenge for Federation combatants on mainland Europa.

No response.

“ _Flash_!” he tried again, with a bit more volume. If no one gave the password, he would have to assume whoever had taken down the holdouts was either gone, hiding, or hostile.

“Thunder!”

His relief was soon overcome by confusion. The voice sounded oddly familiar. Any second now he would remember. The lightbulb in his head went off just a tad bit slower than the one in Raz’s.

“Kai! That you?” the sergeant called out.

A few seconds passed, before, “Yeah.”

“Prove it.” While Claude applauded Raz’s precaution, he could see his grin – a fairly obvious sign that he was sure the speaker wasn’t pulling his leg.

“You asked for condoms for your 16th birthday.”

Claude choked a little in his attempt to hide the snort of amusement and second-hand embarrassment. By his side, Raz’s smirk had quickly transformed into a scowl.

“Yeah, it’s her, Claude,” his best friend ground out, before turning around and yelling, “1st Squad! Check fire! We’ve got friendlies here!”

The four of them went inside the ring of vehicles and went about restraining the Imperials. Suspiciously, Kai was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, Kai! Where you at?” Raz shouted, still fuming from the unwanted callback. “You scared of me kicking your ass? Should’ve thought of that before pissing me off!”

“In here,” came the short reply. It was from a truck. Handcuffing the last soldier, they skirted around the vehicle until they could see into its storage compartment.

Even Raz was willing to forget his smarting pride at the sight before them. For, in front of their very eyes was Leena ‘Kai’ Schulen, 1st Sergeant of Easy Platoon and marksman extraordinaire…adorably nibbling on a cracker biscuit.

“Uh…” started Claude. He wasn’t exactly sure what to say. On the one hand, she had just saved him the trouble of having to deal with Macancka. On the other…actually, he couldn’t really think of a detractor. Officer or not, he wanted to be out of the storm as much as his troops did, and she’d just drastically accelerated the whole process.

“Oh, this is _too good_ ,” said Raz, whose expression had morphed back into a sly grin. “You having a little tea break?”

Kai didn’t take the bait, and just kept eating. Between bites, she said, “Haven’t had anything all day. Just wanted something to eat.”

Claude remembered how the sniper’s stomach had growled during the briefing. That had been over two hours, a lot of running, and one intense firefight ago. There was probably a regulation about taking supplies from the enemy after they’d surrendered without processing them through logistics first. But for the life of him, he couldn’t be bothered to check right now.

Claude just settled with nodding to her, and saying, “Nice work, Kai.”

She nodded back. “Thanks, Claude.”

And so, he turned around and went to re-join 1st and 2nd Squads. He’d have to report the ambush’s success to HQ, and then the platoon would sort through their casualties. They had wounded soldiers, but no fatalities on their side had been called out so far. He could only hope that would remain the case. Afterwards, they would have to link up with Dog and Baker Platoons, before heading back to base. Either way, it would still be a while before they could crash in their barracks.

Behind him, he heard a bark of laughter from Raz.

“You know, when we hit the Siegval Line, the Federation shouldn’t bother with an army. Just starve ol’ Deadeye Kai for a few days, say the Imperials have got a buffet lined up, and launch her at them with a catapult. We won’t even have to wait an hour before–Agh! What gives, Kai? It was just a joke! Hey! Quit it! You have any idea how much those cans hurt? Ack! Son of a–”

A small smile made its way to his lips. Rain, hail or shine, as long as he had his friends and men next to him, he’d brave the coldest winters and harshest deserts to see them all through.

_GROWL_

…Ah shit. Now he was hungry too.


End file.
